Chapter Text
If Alex has to think about Shakespeare for another minute, she’s going to start screaming.
It’s quiet in the parlor the Thursday before break, only the faint sound of The Smiths on the tinny stereo and the satisfying thwick of Dawes maneuvering her tarot cards on the coffee table, flashcards spread in an arc around her. The evening would almost be enjoyable if she wasn’t on her third attempt to choose a topic for her last Shakespeare and Metaphysics paper. Alex has made the executive decision that the minute she gets off the plane in Los Angeles, she’ll spend the long weekend as brain dead as possible and that means doing the work now.
Alex tosses her head back over the velvet edge of the couch and considers asking Dawes about her thesis as a way to procrastinate further. She had liked taking these Shakespeare courses with Mercy.
Mercy had a gift for explaining all of the things that made Alex want to rip out her hair in frustration or at least making things into a joke they could laugh about it together. She never made Alex feel lesser for her struggles. If things were better between the two of them right now she would go to her about the essay but then again, if things were better between them Alex wouldn’t be haunting Il Bastone the way she was.
The only comfort was in the fact that Darlington spent his nights on the floor above; Alex knows that he’s trying to keep it together in a way that he’s never had to before– holding himself to the impossible standard of being that same gentleman of Lethe. She had been there when he re-enrolled, giving her unsolicited opinion on whether or not he needed to take a full course load, and saw a spark of the boy she had met last August. The scholar returned home.
In the early days, when they were unsure of what the demons wanted or if Alex and Darlington could be further apart than across campus, she used to go with him to Black Elm. Some days she napped in the sunroom or set up with her notes in the library, other times she’d sit with her reading and supervise his newest renovations on the house.
It proved to be unnecessary one afternoon when Alex had gotten too caught up in office hours and he had gone over alone, too restless to wait. It wasn’t that she didn’t stop coming, just that the excuse was worthless now
Even though Alex knows she needs to focus on her reading, she finds herself drawn to the precise act of Dawes reshuffling and cutting the deck. As much as she’d like to get lost in the fluid motion of her dealing, there’s more work to be done before leaving campus– not just for class but the ever needy Lethe.
Dawes’s voice breaks the silence, her face turned up to Alex, “I’m leaving for my sister’s on Monday afternoon so you’ll have to fend for yourself this week but there’s plenty of food here.” There’s a concern in her voice like always, so sure that they’d fall to pieces if left to their own devices. She wasn’t entirely wrong, Alex had come to depend on Dawes’s mothering.
“I’m heading back to my mom’s this year actually.” Alex’s reply comes out too casual, more of a dismissal than she owes her after everything they’ve been through together.
Dawes’s hands ghost over the splayed cards, one lingering over the Knight of Swords and the other reaching for Death, “In Los Angeles?”
“In Los Angeles.”
Dawes pauses, chewing her lip and shuffling through her notecards. The mannerisms remind Alex of the uncomfortable Dawes from last year, all of that hard-earned sureness dissipating.
“What’s wrong, Dawes?”
Alex sets her reading aside even if she’s not entirely sure it’ll get picked back up again. Shakespeare is going to have to wait, if she hasn’t come up with a topic yet there’s no promise she ever will.
Dawes stares down at the rest of the worn Rider-Waite-Smith deck balanced precariously on her sweatpant-clad thigh, “I don’t think we should leave Darlington alone.”
Fuck. Alex hadn’t even considered what Darlington would do, hadn’t thought to worry like Dawes obviously had. It would’ve been different if she was staying in New Haven, easier maybe, to sleep in and avoid the rest of the world. Catch up on her reading and find a way to survive the rest of the semester while still getting through finals.
She scoots forward on the couch, closer to Dawes. “You don’t think I should leave him alone.”
Dawes looks over at her, half-pleading, “We can just bind him here, or at Black Elm, if he prefers.”
It goes unsaid that they won’t do that, can’t do that.
“I promised my mom…” Despite everything that happened, she still wanted to go back to Los Angeles and make things better with Mira than they had been last spring. To be a better daughter. Los Angeles could go fuck itself but she owed this to her mom. “How am I supposed to convince him to come with me?”
Maybe Darlington would hate Los Angeles and maybe he wouldn’t but Alex knows he’d hate leaving New Haven so soon, especially when they were starting to get into the flow of things. They were finally beginning to make progress in what felt like endless research. Dawes seemed convinced a breakthrough was just around the corner but Alex couldn’t be sure if that wasn’t just delirium from too many late nights.
Alex is saved from the beginnings of what she already knows would be an honestly terrible plan to trick Darlington into coming by the sound of his voice ringing out clear and steady from the front entry. “Pammie? Stern?”
“We’re in the parlor.”
Darlington comes in, so put together–aside from the smear of paint on his wrist– that if she didn’t know any better Alex wouldn’t believe he had been working on the house. During her last trip to Black Elm, she’d spent a few moments too long watching the flex of his arms while he was flat on his stomach repairing the baseboards of the west hallway. Darlington had caught her staring when he reached over for the pry bar, making a wry remark that had embarrassed her to the point of temporary self-exile from afternoons harassing him.
In the present, Darlington’s eyes settle immediately on Alex before he shakes his head fondly. “Stern, don’t tell me you still haven’t settled on a sonnet. It’s Shakespeare, just pick one and you can make up whatever interpretation you’d like.”
Dawes clears her throat, clearly either affronted by Darlington’s disparagement of Shakespeare or bracing herself to start the conversation. “Alex and I were just talking about our Thanksgiving plans.”
Alex shoots Dawes a glare, no one had ever claimed Pamela Dawes had a way with subtlety.
“I figured I would stay here with Stern’s supervision, a good opportunity for research.” Darlington’s reply comes easy, exactly what Alex would expect if she had any plans to stay: research and time for him to improve his newfound habit of avoiding actually having to talk to Alex. Besides the one night in the Virgil room, they hadn’t had the much-needed conversation about the things they knew or the roles they fit into now.
“I’ll leave you two to figure this out.” Dawes gets up, gathering her things and slipping her headphones back on, probably headed towards the kitchen to get started on dinner.
“I’m going–” Alex stops herself. Not home, Los Angeles hadn’t been home since she came here. “I’m going to visit my mom for Thanksgiving”
“And?” As Darlington moves towards her, there’s a moment where Alex thinks he’ll sit by her socked feet at the edge of the couch before he settles in an armchair.
“And we don’t know how any of this whole bound-to-serve thing works, even if we know we can be in separate parts of New Haven, who's to say things will be okay cross-country?”
“You and Dawes don’t trust me alone. I understand. I don’t necessarily trust myself.” There’s a rare spark of something in his eyes– Guilt? Pity? Shame? Whatever it is, Alex doesn’t like it on him.
“You’re coming with me to Los Angeles because I promised Mira. I’m not leaving your sorry ass to mope here alone until you hulk out and attack a demon in broad daylight.“
“I’ve never liked the thought of California.” Darlington looks right at her, a gaze so intent it’s nearly disarming, “but for you Stern, I’ll come along.”
His words were so close to what had been haunting her all fall, come on along . In some ways, that’s what all of this had been– Alex dragging everyone along into her orbit of trouble. Maybe Los Angeles didn’t promise the same demons of New Haven but worse things had always lurked in that seasonless sunshine.
Alex wants to feel relieved when the plane touches down at LAX but finds herself itchy with nerves instead.
It always feels wrong to come back here, there were days that final summer where she was sure Sandow’s offer had just been a dream. Maybe she had just gone to Mira’s in a bout of determination in getting her life back and Len was too pissy to call, maybe Hellie had gone home and told Alex to do the same, maybe she was just high out of her mind at Ground Zero.
There’s no one here with any interest in hurting her–Eitan was dead, some other asshole taking his place in the ecosystem, and the demons were bound to New Haven for now. The only danger here was waiting beside her at a Starbucks a few blocks from the airport, put together even after a day of travel.
They had walked here in relative silence, just the occasional remark from Alex about the area and the reality of Los Angeles traffic. It already felt like she was failing him, Alex didn’t have the passion for the city the way he loved New Haven.
“I don’t know how you can drink something like that.” Darlington looks over disdainfully at Alex’s iced caramel brülee latte like he wasn’t the one who had ordered it for her.
“At this point in the semester, I run off caffeine and sugar.” And maybe a few drops of Basso Belladonna but Alex doubted he would approve of that, “What did you get?”
He looks back at the sticker and frowns, “I prefer hot drinks in the fall but California weather seems to require iced. It’s an americano with an extra shot.”
“Darlington, it’s sixty-four degrees out and we’re in Los Angeles, you’re going to see people in jackets. You can get a hot coffee.”
While he pretends not to people watch out the window, Alex shoots a quick response to Dawes’ check-in about their safe arrival and briefly considers texting Mercy and Lauren to see how Montreal is but thinks better of it.
Mercy probably hadn’t told Lauren much but Alex had to believe that she had made up some kind of fight to explain her disappearance from the dorm. She’s snuck back a few times to grab clothes or books but they hadn’t spoken outside of class in weeks.
At the ping of a text from her mom (simply the word here followed by a barrage of emojis), Alex nudges Darlington back into reality. Only moments after they step outside, Mira pulls up in her old Jetta, leaving the car idling at the curb as she bounces out to clasp Alex tightly in her arms.
“Oh, my little star! It’s been too long!” Mira says it mostly into Alex’s hair, pulling her into her chest.
“I missed you too Mom.” It’s easy to wrap her arms around Mira in response, and Alex finds the words are true when she says them. As soon as they pull back, Mira’s eyes settle on Darlington.
“When you said friend, I was expecting one of your roommates!” Mira exclaims before tossing a coy look toward Alex. This is what she was worried about, there was no way to anticipate how awkward this trip could be.
Darlington is holding out a hand for Mira to shake, ever the gentleman, but she pulls him in for a hug of his own. It reminds her of the way Dawes held him when Alex first brought him back to Il Bastone.
She smiles radiantly at him, Alex’s sunshine mother and her golden boy together on a dusky Los Angeles street corner. “I’m Mira.”
Darlington adjusts his stance, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Stern.” Alex is glad he doesn’t give any nicety on hearing a lot about her, most of Darlington’s knowledge of Mira came from Alex’s file or the brief holding of his soul in her body.
“Manners but do you have a name too?”
His reply comes easy, Darlington is used to charming the world. “That would be Daniel Tabor Arlington V.”
“Mom, Darlington and I–” Alex sees a slight twist to Darlington’s practiced smile– the old standby that pleased both students and faculty alike– and she doesn’t like it.
“I’m Alex’s boyfriend.”
“Galaxy! You never mentioned any boys!” There’s a delight on her face that Alex isn’t sure has ever been directed towards her, usually just cute puppies or a particularly enlightening tarot reading.
Alex almost wishes she could carjack the Jetta and escape to Vegas but if she ran, she wouldn’t be able to give him shit for this later. Out of all of the times for Darlington to decide to take the lead on a lie he had to choose now with her mother of all people. This wasn’t some meaningless excuse for a roommate or a reason to be by Darlington’s side to discuss his parent’s estate, this was something her mom would harass Alex about for months.
The sudden chime of Mira’s phone might just be the best thing Alex has ever heard, a rare moment of perfect timing. “Hold on kids, when I’m finished I want to learn all about you– are you a Daniel? Dan? Tabor?” Only Mira would seem excited at the idea of calling someone Tabor.
“Mom. Phone.” She’s pretty sure she’s not glaring at Darlington but Alex can’t be positive, if it wasn’t for maintaining their cover she would’ve lashed into him already.
Mira darts back into the car to take the call as Alex opens the trunk to stash her luggage. Part of Alex, the viper lying in wait, wants to start a fight over this if only for a momentary outlet. She’s spent decades lying to her mother but this is almost going too far.
“Really Darlington? Boyfriend?”
“I can’t very well have introduced myself as your cousin to your mother, besides didn’t you say boyfriend would’ve been a better cover when we met?”
“I had a whole story worked out, most of one at least. You’re a coworker whose apartment flooded and had nowhere to go this weekend. She’s a sucker for a sob story so we’d pepper in the fact that you don’t have any family.” Alex pauses to take in Darlington’s dismayed expression, “Don’t give me that look, you’re literally an orphan. More money and a little less magic and you’d practically be Batman.”
“It wouldn’t have been a bad line. Black Elm flooded a few springs ago, and the worst of it was all in the basement” His face falters briefly, there and then gone, “I barely had the money to repair it but in retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have bothered.”
Alex could still see the charred husk of the basement, the destroyed ballroom floor. Darlington had worked on the house since the second descent but Alex wasn’t sure anything would save those rooms. What could she say to comfort him? None of their shared survivor’s strength could fix what Anselm– what Golgarot had done to Darlington’s relationship with Black Elm. There are no death words for this kind of haunting.
The only thing that comes to mind is a line from the poem Alex had carefully copied down in the Lethe library annex and tacked to her bulletin board– a scrap from an old issue of the Yale review that had gotten her through the long emptiness of summer. The barrage of days and the anticipation of waiting for the other shoe to finally drop
“And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter, the hills weren’t going anywhere, the thyme and rosemary kept coming back, the sun kept rising, the bushes kept bearing fruit—”
Pleasant surprise colors Darlington’s face, something boyish in its openness, “Poetry, Stern?”
Alex had missed the quotes he had trotted out when he was away and had tucked away her own stash to dazzle him someday. To show him that maybe this was all worth it.
She holds his gaze for a moment, trying to maintain her confidence, “The house will wait.”
Mira’s call saves Darlington from a reply, “Places to be!” Hearing her voice brings Alex back to the reality of California, letting all the struggles of New Haven fall away.
Alex doesn’t know what Darlington or Mira are expecting from her– she thinks her mom understands her enough to see that this could be Alex content. Her mom had never met Hellie, had visited last spring when Alex was at her worst; she doesn’t like to think about how little Mira might know about what it would be like to see Alex happy. At least this would make it easier to pretend for Mira, she can find a way to play along with whatever Darlington makes up next.
At least the drive doesn’t ask much of her, Alex takes shotgun while Darlington sits in the back and patiently fields Mira’s many prying questions about school, his family, where he was from, and of course, the name. It’s strange to drive through these streets with fresh eyes; passing through the west side, past strip malls and mansions far from the heart of the city.
There’s an unsaid agreement between Alex and Mira that they give Darlington a taste of simple California delights; a stroll through the warm night air before getting street tacos not far from the apartment. It’s easy to play girlfriend, to lean into Darlington and smile fondly at his anecdotes about campus. Alex doesn’t want to put the brainpower into why, only that it seems to be enough for her mom.
In the back of her mind, Alex has always hated the apartment but standing in the cramped entry next to Darlington she thinks maybe it was the memories that made things awful.
As Mira hangs up her purse and lights a stick of incense on the buddha-shaped burner, Alex takes in the rest of the place, the sweet scent of Palo Santo as familiar as Mira's hug.
The apartment is as small and kitschy as always. Crystals and bead curtains, shawls over lamps, handmade candles next to pictures old and new, dreamcatchers and silk scarves, paintings of dancing fairies.
Her mom deserves a better place than this, somewhere like the bungalow from that vision in Hell. The kind of life Alex could afford for her someday if Yale worked out.
Darlington nudges Alex’s shoulder gently, “Which room is yours?”
“Second on the left, bathroom is right across.”
Mira turns back to them, another lively smile on her face, “Make yourself at home! I smudged Galaxy’s room again this morning but if the energy still seems off, there’s a chunk of black tourmaline in the living room that might help.”
Darlington nods thoughtfully at Mira before he responds, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you again for your hospitality.”
As he disappears down the hall, carrying Alex’s bags and his own, Alex considers whether or not she should enjoy seeing Darlington this far out of his element. Maybe he was giving her a private moment with Mira as much as he was leaving for his own moment to regroup.
There’s a different tenderness in Mira’s eyes now that it’s just the two of them. Alex knows that even with all the happy texts and pictures of smiling roommates, there’ll always be a part of Mira that’s terrified for her daughter. “I’m glad you’re here baby. Do you feel like tea?”
Alex rubs a hand down her arm, choked by the nostalgia of being back here. “Sounds good, Mama.”
In the kitchen, Mira busies herself getting down mugs while Alex puts the kettle on. The apartment looks better, the plants lusher and the shabbiness less apparent for her mother’s efforts at decoration.
“I like him. Do you think he wants tea? Should I have offered?” Mira asks with concern.
Alex leans against the cabinet, looking briefly out the window to the courtyard outside. “Darlington? It depends on the blend.” She knows how he takes his coffee and his preferred brandy but not if he liked chamomile, so many little mysteries left.
“I don’t understand the nicknames with the two of you but he seems good for you, very college appropriate.” Mira looks at Alex, something twinkling in her eyes, “Or maybe more than college?”
“Mom,” Alex stifles a groan but it’s almost worth it to let her mom think things are good at school, that Alex is living a normal sophomore life. “We haven’t been together long, only Halloween actually.” Alex isn’t sure if she’s thinking more of the Manuscript party or the first descent, both big nights for the two of them.
The shrill sound of the kettle whistling interrupts the sounds of distant traffic and the shower running.
Mira’s entirely focused on spooning the chamomile flowers into the tea balls as she asks the question Alex has been dreading, “How’d you meet?”
She can’t tell her about Lethe but this is a narrative Alex could control for the better, she can tell Mira how things should’ve happened for the two of them. “It was through a campus club actually, we worked on projects a lot together last fall. I would’ve introduced you last spring but he was on an extended study abroad in Spain until October.” It’s only half a lie, Alex had never thought to mention Darlington to Mira before this month but there’s something pleasing about having the two of them under the same roof.
“Oh, Galaxy! You should’ve mentioned Spain sooner!” Mira had always fantasized about Spain, about connecting with their Sephardic history and seeing the Iberian peninsula.
The perfect opportunity for Alex’s revenge for the boyfriend lie, “You can ask him all about it tomorrow.” If Darlington asked her about it, she could claim he needed the practice for next semester.
Mira carries their mugs back into the living room, that old familiar herbal scent wafting up. “He doesn’t have any family does he?” She asks with so much tenderness that Alex wonders what Mira could see in Darlington that made her so concerned.
Alex shakes her head, taking the cup between her hands like this is a normal conversation for them. Like it was normal for them to sit on the old couch together the way they had when she was small.
“He was raised by his grandfather at the family estate.” Family estate, Alex had grown up in this crappy apartment but now the words family estate came to her naturally, fondly. Black Elm had belonged to her in Darlington’s Hell fantasy, she had liked seeing it come back to life with its master returned. “His parents died last month.”
Those fuckers. Meeting them once would’ve been bad enough but instead, Alex had to live through all of the horrible memories of how they treated Dann– Darlington. Part of her still thinks they deserved it.
“Oh, little star. I understand why you brought him along.” Mira wraps her arms around Alex again. Darlington wouldn’t have spent Thanksgiving with Daniel and Harper anyways but Alex thought this would soften Mira towards him further, she knows grief.
“What’s planned for tomorrow? Crystals and healing circles?”
Mira laughs sadly before she replies, “Something came up and I have work now but for the rest of your visit I’ll be as free as a bird. You and your darling should go see the city!”
“Darlington.”
Mira waves her hand, a settled smile on her face that Alex understands as relief. Mira’s daughter is at Yale with a perfect, beautiful boyfriend and kind roommates. Danger isn’t waiting at her door anymore and here in Los Angeles, Alex can almost pretend that’s true.
“I’m going into my room to meditate before bed but have sweet dreams, baby.”
Alex absentmindedly sips at the tea as she scrolls through a google search for fall activities in Los Angeles. Even after she knew he was coming along Alex had counted on the buffer of Mira or at least following whatever schedule she had planned. Darlington hadn’t planned on ever visiting California, what would he even like to do?
They haven’t had a real conversation since before the second descent, just Darlington’s over explanations of what he was working on at Black Elm or demon sightings around campus. Alex had thought maybe they’d get to talking on the flight here but she had fallen asleep, her head pillowed on his shoulder. There wouldn’t be any demons to fend off or rituals to prepare for tomorrow, if they were going to talk it would be during this trip.
There isn’t much to do now but shower, if only as a way to put off the inevitable. Alex was pretty sure that even if she disappeared for hours, he’d wait up for her. The eucalyptus hanging from the showerhead reminds her of all of the little idiosyncrasies she had grown up with; some of Mira’s knowledge of healing crystals and high vibration plants had been absorbed by Alex against her will.
There was nothing magic in what Mira did, not really, but the intricacies of her little rituals remind Alex of Dawes.
Her mom and Dawes had narrowly missed each other last spring but Alex thinks they might just get along, maybe they’d have some interesting conversations on tarot or all of the ways Alex should take better care of herself.
Despite the shitty water pressure, the shower is fortifying enough that there’s no hesitation in going towards her room.
Her bedroom is less little girl than she remembered, more like the freshman dorm that Mira had seen briefly last spring. Crystals arranged on the dresser below the window, a few art prints on the wall. The only thing interrupting is the presence of Darlington on her bed, the same Sukhasana pose from the circle as he reads a book on California history.
“Could you like cover your eyes or something while I change?” Alex digs through her suitcase for a second, getting the usual shorts and old shirt she always slept in. This wasn’t like the night of the Manuscript party where they had curled together for warmth, out of necessity.
This was the first night out of four, an oversight on Alex’s part when it came to inviting him. The matter of Mira thinking they were together meant that she expected this; Alex had lived with Len, of course she would share a bed with her college boyfriend.
“A gentleman never looks uninvited”
“Do demons?”
“Fair point, Stern” He makes a show out of covering his face with the book as she dresses, only putting it down when she sits on the bed next to him.
“Mira likes you already.”
“I don’t know what I expected her to be like, more like you maybe.”
Alex laughs, hoping it doesn’t come out as bitter as it feels. “I’m nothing like my mom, I was half convinced I wasn’t hers as a kid. I’m sure she’ll prove that by telling you something obnoxious about your aura in the morning.”
“I gathered that from her advice on what was it? Black tourmaline to adjust your room’s energy?”
“She brought sage to smudge the dorm when she visited last spring, I’m sure she’d have a lot to say about the ‘vibes’ at Il Bastone.”
Alex’s yawn catches her off guard, a few hours out of harm’s way and her body wants to give out.
“Do you mind if I?” She reaches for the IKEA lamp on the bedside table and Darlington slips in his bookmark before setting the book down in response.
In the near dark, Alex presses her back to the wall, Darlington straining to stay on the far edge. Of course they both still had the narrow beds of childhood and found themselves in these situations.
“I hate the sounds here. The whir of the 101 is like the most awful white noise someone could come up with.” Los Angeles traffic had never been soothing but leaving had made it so much worse. It was nothing like the ambient noises of her dorm at night– the sounds of people talking or faint music that continued long after the university had settled– or the serenity of Il Bastone.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Darlington.”
“You’re right, it is truly terrible.”
“I got used to the quiet of Il Bastone.” The same quiet of Black Elm, haunted only by the old man.
“We could ward the apartment tomorrow.”
Alex shakes her head, the streetlight filtering in from the curtains enough to see Darlington’s face turned toward her. “The grays aren’t that bad here and–” and Alex is used to needing access to grays by now, the brush of them outside a familiar comfort in contrast to the terror of childhood.
Darlington is quiet for a moment before he asks another one of his wrong questions, “Was this what it was like?”
Alex doesn’t need him to elaborate, she saw his entire childhood through the old man, this is the least she can give him. “When I was a kid, yeah. I left at fifteen.”
That was the thing, Mira had never kicked Alex out. It had always been Alex leaving and making her mother’s life miserable. The few months Alex had spent here after that night at Ground Zero before she could come to Yale had been uncomfortable at times, it had felt like being a little girl again as much as it had felt like being stuffed into a too-small box. It was hard to stay sober.
Alex pauses before she speaks next, “The biggest difference is not being afraid, that’s the only gift Lethe’s given me.” Besides magic and Il Bastone…and Dawes and Darlington but she wasn’t going to get sappy now.
“Have you come back since?” Darlington asks, nothing but genuine curiosity. He has to wonder about everything he missed in the summer, all the days Sandow was long dead for.
“Just the one day in July. Eitan got me in that bind." That's what Darlington’s lie had reminded Alex of earlier, that she had told Eitan she was moving east with a boyfriend. Had she been thinking of him at the time or was it just the easiest way to get Eitan off her back?
“Right… at least our trip to Hell saved you the trouble of getting rid of an evil drug lord,” Darlington says, amused.
Alex wants to laugh, feels it waiting in her chest, “I think I got the better end of the stick.”
“You didn’t have to do all of this.” His voice is soft, maybe he’s just as exhausted as she is.
“I thought we’d gone over this enough, I would do all of it again in a heartbeat.”
Darlington pauses for a moment, composing himself. “I meant inviting me here for Thanksgiving.”
This would’ve been a worse conversation by daylight, at least her room is dark enough to cover the flush of embarrassment.
“You say that now but just wait until the tofurkey comes out.” She pulls the blankets up to her chin, unsure what to do with her hands, “Goodnight, Darlington.”
“Goodnight, Stern.”
Sleep doesn’t come easily, Alex still hates coming back to Los Angeles. Part of her wonders if it’ll always be this awful or if someday things will feel far away enough that she can indulge nostalgia. Darlington’s steady breathing beside her lends a sense of unreality to everything, a fantasy too bizarre for even her subconscious.
Alex can’t regret bringing him here but that doesn’t mean some part of her isn’t worried about how the coming days will play out.